Number 84or, how numbers and marigolds never lie
by ParvisSira
Summary: It all started with a list, the scent of marigolds, and this strange appeal. The Guild. Codex/Fawkes
1. Chapter 1

Part One

_There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it—George Bernard Shaw_

"Furry, check," and with that the list he started half as a joke and half in seriousness as a rejected nerdy teenager was done—well, almost. The list had come about when he had been sitting at home on a Friday night after a girl he'd asked to freshman formal had turned him down in front of the entire lunch room. It was mortifying. He came home to his mother who had taken one look at his face and went to make his favorite dinner and his father who suggested they play a quick round of D & D and didn't mention a thing.

Later that night he decided he had enough of their opinions, enough of trying to fit into their "meaningless consumer driven lives" (10 Things I Hate About You), and just enough. Forget Heather, he spent the rest of the weekend making a list of all the girls he wanted to sleep with. Some of the suggestions were revenge motivated (see, 45. former cheerleader who has gotten fat; 12. a girl named Heather); some were boring and unimaginative (see, 89. a blue eyed girl; 128. the clichéd waitress); some were a bit out there or imaginative (72. a furry; 132. someone you seduced with no words); and some were just plain geeky (96. a comic book author; 84. a girl who bested you in battle). And now only one girl remained—a girl he has long since given up on finding.

On that long ago Monday after Heather had publicly humiliated him, he came to school a changed man. Or, if not changed per se, at least no longer hiding his geeky self under a thin veneer of Gap khakis, conservative Doc Martens and sweaters with a crisp button up. One could say the list was one of the best things that happened to him. Away went the khakis and out came the utility kilts; away went those brown matte Doc Martens and out came the crazy combat boots, and away went those sweaters and in came every geeky tee-shirt he could find. Hilariously, once he had given up caring for the adoration of the masses it came to him. High school wasn't much better (though he did manage to close the deal with the actual Heather before graduation) but college was his buffet.

In fact, Fawkes had to hand it to his 14 year old self. Once he had that list he enjoyed himself immensely. He wasn't heartless though; he worked hard so that all the ladies on the list had an unforgettable night followed by a casual breakfast that he had perfected down to an art. After breakfast he returned home to journal the good times and then never thought of them again.

Well, until Codex that was. By the time he had slept with her most of his conquests knew not to call the next day—he was there for sex not to have them fall in love with him. Apparently she missed the memo and called him, and even after the blow off called him again (and instead of finding her persistence stalker-ish, he found it kind of adorable which was troublesome).

She was utterly crazy, but that "non-deductible business meeting" had him intrigued. He'd never met someone who tied herself in such knots. It was worth the trip and slight bending of his rules to see her again. And oh was it worth it, she didn't do a particularly good job of convincing him that he should date her. There were no offers of an intimate variety only an appeal to his good nature and brownies. Normally he would have definitely blown her off, but it had been a long time since someone had begged him to help just because. So, while he may have only caved once he heard there was turmoil in her guild, the leader of a guild called the Axis of Anarchy had a bit of a reputation to maintain, he might have given in even without that.

After all, in the hundreds of woman he'd slept with he'd never gone on a second date with any of them. Maybe being a faux-boyfriend would give him the experience points without actually having the experience of a clingy woman.

And, she did smell good.

After a surprisingly fun dinner where he got to torment Codex (and watch her try to make everything right again—always a fun task) and after a kiss that got him nowhere (which was surprisingly odd, he was quite a good kisser—he'd leveled that) . Anarchy asked for, nay demanded that he let Venom catch him with Panda girl. After all, anarchy is simply an opposition to the arbitrary rule of self-elected usurpers outside the Individual (Henry Appelton) and he was quite an Individual.

Since they weren't actually dating there was no reason not to take Jeanette home (clichéd waitress ftw) and no reason not to check off the penultimate item on his list—the furry. Without there being any reason to be the loyal boyfriend and with no bribe of intimacy he saw nothing wrong with it. And yet, there was the smallest twinge as he went back to panda girl's place that it wasn't her lips he wanted and even in all her exotic furry goodness there was something missing.

And that twinge worried him because he certainly didn't care what she thought or love anyone. Except those cats—he f'ing loved those LOLcats and their bad grammar.

Maybe he was a little put out that she wasn't putting out. Maybe he just wanted to see what contortions Cyd would go through. Silly girl needed to learn to not care so much what others thought. What made the Axis great was their stance of never backing down to anything but what benefitted their individual parts. He had thought Tink got the AoA spirit but she caved in the end of the gooey Knight of Good and their feel good friendship philosophy. How bourgeois.

And so he figured they were done, he'd either blown her cover or she'd survived. Either way it didn't much matter. He could finish her entry in his journal and get back to the rest of his life. Fawkes contemplated making a new list, but that seemed a bit pedantic. No reason to limit himself to his imagination, why not see what the world provided? And yet, he wasn't quite in it. And yet, the ending of his list of awesome had felt almost task like. And yet, there was still this strange appeal.

And perhaps it was that strange appeal that made him open instead of just delete the in game message from Zaboo.

_To: Fawkes_

_From: Zaboo_

_Subject: A quest so you can haz victory! _

"_For anything worth having one must pay the price and the price is always work"—John Burroughs_

_I thought you'd appreciate a quote. Quoted'd. It might seem like the Ice Giant has you pinned down with their vicious icicle attack and his little Ice Priestess Zombies are pwn'ing you with their stealthy zombie attacks. (or, um, maybe that's just me) but this is just a momentary distraction on your way to sweet Codex loot. _

_In short, I'm the plucky sidekick and you are the hero in the ballad of Codex and Fawkes. I implore you to come with and redouble your efforts to win our lady's hand. Accept this quest and the firestorm shall rain down on the Ice Giants and crazy Ice Priestesses and you shall conquer! _

_-Z_

_Team Cawkes FTW!_

First, what the hell was Team Cawkes? Second, how did the little man know of his love for the LOLs. Third, sneaky Zaboo cutting off the quotation there...ignoring the rest of it which talks of love, self-sacrifice and the so called "gold of real service". Fourth, he wasn't actually considering it, was he? Damn, he was.

_To: Zaboo_

_From: Fawkes_

_Re: A quest so you can haz victory!_

_WTF*ck._

There, short and not-so-sweet. His calling card. That should get him off the hook.

_To: Fawkes_

_From: Zaboo_

_Re: A quest so you can haz victory!_

_In my role as super supportive Codex BFF, I must facilitate your reunion. In my search to understand women I found out that the rakish rogue is always redeemed by his one true love. I am a super friend and so I must reunite you (reunited'd). _

_Meet me at Codex's in an hour. Bring flowers (Cosmo says girls like those!)._

_-Z_

_Team Cawkes FTW!_

What was up with the Knight of Good? He certainly didn't try to reunite his guild members with their one-night stand/fake relationships/exes. Otherwise he'd have to try to get new guildie Riley back with the crazy little man. He didn't try to fix broken hearts. He may have slightly let of Bruiser after the divorce but that was because he didn't want a beat down. And he didn't offer romantic pointers—as if he needed that, he'd pulled far more girls than Zaboo dreamed of.

And yet, his list was pretty much done (and as done as he thought it would be) and this was something slightly new and interesting. He'd certainly never lived in a soap opera before. There was something almost 1950s-esque about how their guild seemed to care about each other. The Axis stayed together because they were the best and they stayed on top. In the dark corners of the night he admitted that if the Axis would have been in the Knights of Good's place they would have broken apart under their rival guild's pressure and that made them interesting...made her interesting. Made him wonder if she could complete his list.

Interesting was such a curious word. Fawkes couldn't explain how she got under his skin. Better to see how this role played out. Though, if he was bringing flowers they certainly weren't going to be roses.

A memory fired across his synapses and there it was—marigolds. Back in the Victorian era they meant grief or despair...and she certain had caused him enough grief (his one night stands were supposed to be destinations not journeys) and the sheer naivety and hope in the Knights of Good caused him despair it reminded Fawkes far too much of himself back before he became his BAMF self.

Ignoring the fact that he'd never brought a girl flowers of any type and against his better judgment he actually did meet Zaboo at Codex's house with his somewhat bedraggled looking marigolds in hand. Funny story actually, the florist didn't actually have marigolds. First the florist tried to say that camellias (longing and beauty) were marigolds and then tried to push calla lilies (magnificent beauty) off on him. He was a renaissance man, an epicurean, a master at his craft. He could tell when something wasn't a marigold.

Luckily the garden across the street had some marigolds that had seen better days and some sweet talking later to the near sided sweet old woman about the "thought that counted" and how "marigolds were her favorite" and he charmed the flowers away from got him some marigolds that had seen better days.

"Marigolds?"

"Might I remind you that you were the one that asked me here for your epic love-quest"

"Right, so here's the plan, I'm going to soften her up with emotional support, mudmasks and popcorn. Then when she expresses sadness I'll pull back the curtain and voila! You'll be there."

"Wait..she doesn't know I'm coming over," that almost stopped him right there. This charade had come quite close to him actually appearing that he wanted her back. That he wanted her. That he, dare he say, loved her? A shudder ran through him, love should be avoided, if at all possible (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy).

"Dude, don't worry. I've mapped her biorhythms and don't think it should take more you know 47 to 85 minutes to have her realize she is missing you. She's in her emotional cycle now."

That sounded oddly creepy when he thought about it.

But then this whole venture seemed to have taken a left at normal and ventured into the absurd. There he sat on Codex's couch, a couch he didn't sit on that night of passionate monkey sex listening to Zaboo comfort her. What was he doing here? He wasn't raiding, he wasn't on any plot. What was it about this girl that made him, even jokingly, even as a random quest, even as a new experience bring flowers. She lowered his boundaries and raised his hopes and it made him feel downright sour, he didn't care what she thought he never had. Before he could work himself up into lather and leave he remembered something that had tickled his brain earlier. Marigolds meant grief and despair but they also meant affection. Even if she wouldn't get it, he couldn't have her get that meaning.

This would not do. Outside he ran and pulled up the worst looking bunch of dead flowers straight from the ground he could find roots and all. They were in one of those planters and probably hadn't been watered in month. This was perfect.

He blamed his melancholy and interest in her on the list. His interest in her was just the side effect of the end of an era, the last gasp of the last item on a list he made when he was 14. Who knew what they wanted at 14 anyway.

Zaboo had told him to listen for his cue, but sitting so softly and listening had a disastrous side effect. He heard her. He heard the girl talk and, try as he did to guard against it stirred something in him...something that had started when she had made her appeal to Tink to come back over their chat channel. She could take him down in a fight, she could band together her guildies, and she could go toe to toe with him when he pushed, but yet she still was squishy. He hated it. And yet, "love and hate are two sides of the same blade," (Jacqueline Carey). Apparently, she had actually cared for him, it wasn't just for her guild or for the game.

So it was a bit off guard he heard the cue and took his place beyond the door and waited for his cue.

"Well, that went well," Fawkes drawled as he quirked his eyebrow.

"She's just upset now maybe something more personal than flowers. Sweet love renew they force!—Sonnet 56"

"Are you stealing my thing? Because they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery (American proverb), but I'm not really feeling flattered right now."

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit hurt. Had he become Heather? In his rush to avoid attachment and not care what other people had thought had he gone too far? The look in her eyes when she had seen him had been the tiniest bit of hope—until she saw the flowers and then she steeled herself waiting for the ego and emotional blow she seemed to expect. And if she just would have broken, her spell over him would have been over but she just kept going even though it hurt. Damn finishing the list; damn her sweet smell; and damn her bad poker face and expressive eyes.

He got home and logged onto the Game...the Game where he was a king among men. Where he rode his mighty mastodon across the Hinterland Plains.

"Where the F*ck were you. I was busy in the dungeons getting gang...," Bruiser trailed off into a thread of increasingly vulgar and increasingly impossible anatomical suggestions.

"If you complain one more time about that mud dragon I'll open and turn on my oven and fall out of my wheelchair so I can't move from in front of it." Venom spat cutting his tirade short.

And with that he cut the somewhat disastrous meeting out of his mind and got down to the world where up was up and down was down and everything bend perfectly to his will. Several hours and several levels of the dungeon later he was feeling back to normal and confident he could ignore that twinge whenever he saw a healing spell and ignore that pang every time a flash of red hair came across the screen.

"OMG! We have to go and mock them. The Knights of Good are holding a festival of the sea festival at that tacky Cheesybeards—their outfits are so not period accurate."

"After Fawkes-gate it'll be anarchy!" Riley smirked.

And even though he had no desire to go, Riley had invoked a challenge he couldn't avoid. It'll be anarchy indeed. But just what kind of anarchy he hadn't decided yet.

7


	2. Chapter 2

_The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread, because the sun's and her power is the same—Henry Constable_

Even in a ridiculous outfit—that she was wearing pants with, so random! (Her legs were one of her nicest features she shouldn't have hidden them so)—his breath still hitched a bit in his throat when he saw her. He dispatched with the one-hooked man quickly and then she tried to be nice.

It was that. That persistence in politeness, even after all their history, even after he had quasi-deliberately blown apart her cover, even after everything that peaked his curiosity. So, he tried one of his usually relatively successful approaches a subtle dig at her followed by a show of power. It worked in the animal kingdom, why not here. Humans were just animals at heart. He was kind of intrigued by the fact that she didn't see impressed by his internet success and that her eyes kind of sparkled when she was angry.

Where did her strength come from? She was at times an absolute twitchy neurotic mess. She was horrible at strategy, appealing to good nature when a show of force was needed and assuming that there was good in everyone. For goodness sake she couldn't even curse them out appropriately (but damn his inconvenient heart because he found her piratical and somewhat juvenile cursing cute; damn bloody pang).

In short she fascinated him and ever since that fateful day when he finished the list and became his new self he only did what interested him. He was the kind of guy that only filled up his gas tank when he felt like, he was the kind of guy that didn't buy into your societal norms, he was the kind of guy who followed the interesting.

So he lurked in the shadows and popped out asking out again. After all, who wouldn't want to date him again?

But she said why? And so he tried for reminiscence and played on the last time she asked him out. And he knew he could have convinced her if it wouldn't have been for Jeanette. With her bad poker face once Codex saw that, yes indeed he had gotten all up in Jeanette the window of convincing her had closed for the moment.

"Consider me you're a**-kicking fairy godmother, but even if I hadn't laid the beat down she wasn't going to say yes you know."

"Huh," was all Fawkes' beaten and shaken self managed in response.

"She's not in it for the sheer fun of sex or just a night," was punctuated with a knee to his groin. "You want to date her? You might have to change your game. Think about what you like about her and you might want to start with not being such a d*bag."

Later, Fawkes would decide that as painful as it was he owed Jeanette a mighty big favor. Currently, he decided he owed Jeanette a world of hurt.

Because he wasn't a doctor, after letting the Axis know, he headed over to the urgent care center at the hospital and, because his life was currently turning into one big coincidence (and he understood the law of large numbers just fine, thank you. Now f* off) and who should follow but the Knights of Good. All of them.

Not to see him of course—but to make sure that neither Codex nor Bladezz was hurt. Hidden as he was by a curtain, they couldn't see him he just heard them.

The Axis came together to play, but dare he say it? The Knights of Good seemed almost familial. Though, if he heard them right and it wasn't just the morphine, some of them were going to become family. Suckers. Who needed them.

And yet, and yet, His mother's face as she didn't ask the question he could have and his father's act of letting him be the dungeonmaster when it wasn't his turn stuck in his throat.

The Knights of Good may have been gooey, but there they were checking to make sure no one was injured from smoke inhalation. The Knights of Good may have been sappy, but there they were bantering and taking about the silly things of life to distract from the fact that they could have been harmed. The Knights of Good may have been a bit rag tag but they were home. And, he wasn't.

Home is not a place, but all places, all places except the one we happen to be in at the moment (Anthony Burgess). He was there first, he was the injured one and yet he felt like an intruder in his own space. He felt like an exile.

Later that night long after they left, as he was lulled to sleep by the morphine and the gentle beep of his heart monitor he thought about many things. He thought about the flowers that didn't adorn his bed stand—Zaboo had brought some spray painted flowers that matched up to what the in game flowers had looked like; he thought about the solitude of his stay—they had all been so loud and yet he found he didn't mind; and he thought about life. The Axis hadn't come. He hadn't expected them to come, wouldn't have minded that they didn't come if it wasn't for the Knights of Good...if it wasn't for that strange appeal and that last item on his list.

A girl you can bring home, show to your family, and maybe love.

He was a sap at age fourteen. He thought he'd fall in love forever and so while most of his list was about revenge (see, 14. a girl who wore Lilly Pulitzer; 19. a girl who failed earth science the first time) or fun (see, 56. a Japanese Lolita—fashion not book; 62. a Ren Faire wench) or just plain craziness (see, 49. a tattoo artist with 8 piercings; 103. someone in the science lab on the lab tables) but that one his closet romantic heart had put on there because he knew at 14 he'd fall in love. With the short sight of youth he figured it would be Heather but once it was revealed it couldn't be he put it on because at 14 he believed in the power of love everlasting.

Sap. He kind of hated his 14 year old self some days.

He had put away his love and hope and care for humanity and become an anarchist caring only for himself and for his success and his goals. His guild was the best because he picked the best. His guild was strong because they didn't let wimpy feelings and emotions get in way. His guild was the best because it was his.

And yet, marigolds were a good choice for her: grief, despair and sorrow were only secondary meanings to pretty, affection, caress, and love. He had thought her weak, reliant on what others thought and what her guild needed. He had thought her foolish for following the rules and wanting everyone to get along. He had thought her stunted reaching for sunlight in a world that didn't care. He saw now that the light was strength, her guild was her strength, and her heart was her strength. And like the marigold her power was that of the sun and the light. And there in the darkness of a hospital bed, beaten, cold under the blankets, and—dare he say—alone under the moon he wondered if maybe she had chosen the better path.

Morning dawned with no epiphany and none of that brand-new day smell. But Jeanette's words seemed to be sinking in a bit. Was he really that despicable? Surely he didn't need to be a marigold to win her heart. He changed for no woman. Except, maybe today he did because on his release he had to take a taxi home because none of his guildies would pick him up. Even Valkerie was too busy—supposedly working on his cosplay outfit for the convention.

And it wasn't the ride that upset him—a taxi is much more convenient after all—but what the ride represented.

So, maybe he needed to work a bit on some of his habits, those diminutive chains that are seldom heavy enough to be felt, till they are too strong to be broken (Samuel Johnson). Ha! He could break any chain. He was strong.

It was with this in mind that he blew off the Saturday night raid (AFK—out PvP-ing IRL) and went to the opera. After all, it wasn't like gamers would be at Lucia di Lammermoor, it was prime raiding night and they didn't strike him as opera fans. When he was young he had enjoyed the word play of Gilbert & Sullivan, certainly Lucia di Lammermoor would cheer him up like Gilbert & Sullivan had. So he hadn't even googled Lucia di Lammermoor it was done by the same group that did The Mikado, it was bound to be funny.

It was in the first act that he realized his mistake.

It was in the second act that the floor dropped from under in and he felt as alone as Lucia.

It was in the third act that he felt tears brimming in his eyes. It was the tears that had been waiting to fall since he was 14 and making that list. It was the tears that had locked away a part of his heart. Achievement unlocked.

During intermission he thought he saw a flash of familiar red hair in the pit, but it couldn't be. This was opera, he had picked it specifically because he didn't want to see anyone from the Game.

And there during the standing ovation he saw her. He saw her and the look on her face was indescribable. She looked radiant and confident and like she knew just how much she (and the rest of the orchestra and singers) had transported the audience.

All Fawkes could think was "Me, look at me like that", well that and that he regretted his jab about music to pirate man the other day.

But no use dwelling in the past, he had a quest. A quest that called for real flowers. A quest to prove that he wasn't always a d*bag and that she really should date him. Caught up in the music and the story and the magic of the opera, he skipped over the fact that he was buying a girl flowers (twice) and that he was trying to get someone to date him that had turned him down.

The florist didn't have marigolds. So he was left with purple lilacs and sweet peas.

He watched as first the chorister and soloists came out to their adoring fans and then the orchestra came out to their adoring families and was slightly sad to realize that Cyd was coming out to no one. No family, just him.

"Without music, life would be a mistake (Friedrich Nietzsche)"

"What are you doing here! You said the Axis would leave us alone."

"I just came back to congratulate you on a good performance and give you these flowers"

"Yeah, okay," she said as she rolled her eyes and her checks flushed with anger.

This wasn't going as he planned. He just wanted to tell her how interesting she was and how beautiful it was and she suspected some vast plot. Maybe he shouldn't ask her out quite yet, just slowly work on it.

"No, really I'd never seen it before and it was beautiful"

Codex's face was study in contradictions, he could tell she wanted to take the compliment but doubted him so much.

"Here, take them. I certainly am not going to take them home."

"They are kind of pretty," with this she begrudgingly accepted the flowers.

His voice had a almost tearful hitch as he struggled to find something to talk about that wouldn't make her suspect an Anarchist plot.

"That song in the third act sounded really familiar...what was it again."

"The famous soprano solo that goes up to a high F?"

"Yes?"

"You just recognize it from the Fifth Element"

"Oh. Nice."

He wanted to pull her close and kiss her lips, he wanted to ask her out again. But he could see the suspicion in her eyes. She wore her heart all over her face and right now she didn't know what to make of him.

"So, uh, I didn't know you were a violinist."

"Lucky break for me, as it turns out one of the violinists got mono. So even with my cello burning ways the opera pit orchestra called me up."

"Cello burning ways?"

"Never mind, really what are you doing here. Are you stalking me?"

Apparently, the cello was a sore subject as her defenses slammed right back up. The invite for after concert ice cream that had been lingering on his lips dissipated and he figured a strategic retreat might be the best to regroup and plan for tomorrow.

"I didn't come to the opera expecting to see you. But I was delighted to have the experience," he couldn't resist a little eyebrow wiggle. He was cleaning himself up not sanitizing himself.

"It was a great performance. Have a great night," and with that he walked away.

He could tell from the slightly audible sputtering as he walked away that he had confused her. Which, considering everything that had happened. Perhaps confusion was the best he could hope for.


	3. Chapter 3

_Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction—Antoine de Saint-Exupery_

The following weeks were some of the most fun Fawkes' had in ages.

He might not be "getting any" but his insane half-courtship of Codex was actually quite fun.

_To: Clara, Tinkerballa_

_From: Fawkes_

_Subject: 8-bit baby_

_Tink & Clara,_

_So, I know this girl who runs a geek specialty-clothing boutique online. It sells Star Trek rompers and the like. I showed her one of your tee-shirts and she was quite interested._

_Let me know if you want to talk with her._

_-Fawkes_

Because he did know a girl (see, 112. a Klingon) who after they had their passionate night he hadn't talked to for a year and then when he ran into her at the following year's DragonCon she was married and pregnant and they had a normal conversation. He had at the time thought she was foolish for buying into such a normal life even with her baby boutique business, but now he was beginning to understand the appeal.

_To: Bladezz_

_From: Fawkes_

_Subject: The Morning Shows_

_Bladezz, my man. I know this morning news anchor who always is looking for human interest stories and she saw your Cheesybeards commercial. Interested in being on TV? _

_-Fawkes_

Because he did know a girl (see, 35. a weather girl) who had been on his college television station and then went onto to do the local morning show. They'd kept in sporadic touch and maybe because she remembered his fantastic morning after breakfast or maybe because she really did find Bladezz interesting she agreed to interview him.

_To: Mrs. Zaboo_

_From: Fawkes_

_Subject: Have you thought about volunteering?_

_I have this friend who is always looking for volunteers for her "Friends of Forgotten Children" charity. Interested?_

_-Fawkes_

Because he did know this girl (see, 129. a bona fide hippie peacecorp volunteer) who, after spending years in the poorest nations in the world, had come home to help those in her community. When she tried to get him to volunteer he had told her, politely for him (there was no swearing) that he was...busy. But for Mrs. Zaboo expanding her world beyond Zaboo and Vork was bound to be a good thing.

_To: Vork_

_From: Fawkes_

_Subject: Recompense for Guild Hall _

_I was talking with one of my GM friends and let them know about your illegal trading monopoly. So, it's my fault you are stuck with that puffy pink palace. I just transferred the value of the hall to your guild bank. _

_-Fawkes_

Because he did know this girl (see, 27. a game developer) who he had introduced to one of his geekier friends who had since become a GM. He had set them up because he wanted a GM on his side. And what GM wouldn't love the fact that he had introduced him to his girlfriend. It had been nice having a GM under his thumb—even if he told his GM buddy to have another GM actually investigate it (he didn't want it easily traced back to him).

_To: Zaboo_

_From: Fawkes_

_Subject: Team Cawkes?_

_Last time you helped me when I wasn't appropriately leveled. Want to come dungeoneering with me on my quest for Codex? _

_-Fawkes_

_Team Cawkes FTW_

No girl he knew this time, except number 84 who felt like she may well be on the way to being number 1.

The Knights of Good guild chat was filled with speculation. Tink and Clara thought it was a conspiracy—even if they were happy to start selling their merchandise. Bladezz was even hilariously sleazier than at Cheesybeards on television and had turned it into an ad gig for a local comics shop. Vork had been convinced it was a bribe. And Codex?

Well, he mentioned the flowers right? Every week a simple bouquet, telling a story. Gardenia to tell her she was lovely; peppermint for cordiality; yellow tulips to celebrate the sunshine in her smile; crocus for her cheerfulness; and zinnia for constant affection.

The Knights of Guild was confused and it was anarchy—but a strangely good type of anarchy.

Oh yeah, he hadn't had this much fun in ages.

His guild? Well, they noticed a change—but no one could put their finger on it. He knew they talked about it. But he was just as focused and deadly as ever (and since he ended up giving 500,000 gold to Vork he had grinded and as a fortunate side effect leveled up hard).

Bruiser occasionally gave him a look. But, he never made it an issue. Perhaps as one of those involved tangentially with the Knights of Good he understood.

Zaboo let him know that Lucia di Lammermoor turned into The Queen of Spades and Codex's filling in had become a permanent thing.

This time, he watched her throughout the whole performance. She didn't know he was there (thankfully concert halls are rather big) but he picked his seat deliberately for a view of the first violin section. The story of The Queen Spades is, like all opera he's coming to learn sad and depressing, filled with loss and death. He found he quite enjoyed it. After all "if you put together all the ingredients that naturally attract children—sex, violence, revenge, spectacle, and vigorous noise—what you have is grand opera." (Judith Martin). It was quite interesting.

Her face is open like the marigold to the sun and to watch her enspelled by the music to watch her feel and sway is like a tiny slice of paradise. It feels strangely intimate...her appeal no longer so strange.

He doesn't notice the powerful quartet of voices.

He doesn't notice the building madness of a life built entirely around a card game.

He doesn't even notice the first standing ovation. He in enraptured by her face, her grace, and this side of her that he caught only glimpses of in his interactions with the Knights of Good.

He rushed back to the musician's entrance in case she tries to make a quick getaway and there she is.

"What do you want from my guild? What do you want from me?" her voice seems more tired than he would have hoped for.

"I want nothing from your guild. I gave my word when we battled that I'd leave them be."

"What do you want from me then?"

"To give you these flowers and have another chance"

"Another chance to what? Last time you messed around with my head, messed around with other girls, and messed around with my guild," the you-messed-around-with-my-family is unsaid but heard loud and clear. Perhaps a more different approach was needed.

"Dahlias mean forever thine, heliothrope if for devotion, sweet sultan is for happiness, and marigolds are for love and affection"

A shadow passes across her face. It's like she's fighting to stay angry at him. It's like she's fighting to keep thinking the worst of him. It's like she's fighting her hope.

"We had chemistry, we had a great night and then I went and blew it. Not just a little bit but a major epic fail."

Codex giggles a bit under her breath and Fawkes' heart soars with hope.

"Let me take you out again. Let me show you how sorry I am and how wrong I was."

He almost has her now, he can see it on her face.

"I even promise prosciutto. Tomorrow at 7?"

And his ever hopeful, ever sweet, and ever forgiving girl sighs and agrees.

He takes her to a tapas place where they have divine prosciutto wrapped scallops and they share so many tasty dishes. They also share conversation. He's not in this to seduce her (though that will be a happy side effect), he's in this as his one shot—his PvP of him of today versus her view of him. And when it comes to PvP-ing, he shows no mercy.

Round about dessert he decides to share a piece of his past—his list.

"Let me tell you about this list I made when I was fourteen..."

And he does, he tells her about Heather (and sees the sympathy on her face); he tells her about his family (and sees the hidden soft smile); he tells her about making the list (and even has her laughing); and then he tells her about her. Definitely number 84 and hopefully number 1.

"See, I never made any rules for the list that said I couldn't pull a repeat. And I find you utterly fascinating and utterly interesting. You aren't afraid to push back if I push too far, and yet you still maintain your love for your friends who have become your family. So, I would love if we could work towards you being my number one—a girl you can bring home, show to your family, and maybe love. You don't have to tell me know, but think about it as I walk you home?"

It's a quite walk home, if she sends him away it'll hurt. And he's enjoying the simple feel of her hand in his as they wander back to her place.

Right before he drops her off he tries for one last good night kiss. This was soft and searching more like falling into a warm bath than the war like assault from Mrs. Zaboo's birthday dinner.

"Plus, you are quite possibly one of the loveliest people I know and a kick *ss gamer."

And maybe it was that bit of honesty or that kiss he tried to pour his feelings into but she finally says..."alright, maybe this isn't an Anarchist plot. We can try this again—but don't think you can just kiss me to get me to agree to everything."

Instead of going for broke that night he kisses her hand and wishes her a good night.

More weeks pass and the fun he had courting was nothing compared to this. Balsam for ardent love; larkspur for her open heart; snapdragon for strength and graciousness; calla lilies for her beauty; and all of these mixed with marigold for his affection.

It's been a month and he has done the unthinkable. He's invited everyone over to his house for a barbeque. Codex has been there before, but here he was bringing the Axis and the Knights of Good together.

"How many years as a guild mate and you never invited me over until you started dating her for real?" Valkerie seems quite put out, especially once he finds the period correct damask covered fainting couch.

But beyond a few mumbles the Axis of Anarchy and the Knights of Good get along quite well. They make jokes about the game, watch foolish videos of keyboard cat and see Bladezz latest attempt at internet fame. And right before they all go inside for a killer LAN party to join forces and take down a level 99 dungeon boss, Fawkes looks over at Codex and says.

"You know, I really must send Jeanette flowers"

"We've only been dating a month and you are already thinking of sending another girl flowers!" she hits him, hard.

So, of course he explains how the beat down and subsequent night in the hospital just might have been the best thing to happen to him. After a long pause Codex looks at him.

"Well, she does like honeysuckle," Codex concedes.

"Ah my marigold, your unsullied spirit truly does shine for all those who love you (Learned Hand)."


End file.
